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I have a weakness for puns. I am a writer, and writers play with words and puns are one form of wordplay. Alliteration is another: I have an addictive attraction to alliteration! With puns, it’s even worse. I trained myself to make puns, until the habit took over and became obsessive-compulsive. Then I had to de-program myself. Once I had the habit under control, I could let myself make puns to a reasonable degree.

An artist once told me that it was only when she saw a still life with onions by Cézanne that she realized that she had never seen an onion. Now, this doesn’t mean that she had never met up with onions. She had peeled onions, sliced and chopped onions, cooked and eaten onions, but she had never SEEN an onion. She had never perceived an onion with that fresh, clear, first-time-in-my-life vision that allowed her to go out of her own thoughts, ideas and memories and stand in awe before the reality of something new and unknown.

There is a story about the renowned symphony conductor, Arturo Toscanini. It is said that during the rehearsal with a symphony orchestra, Toscanini suddenly stopped the whole orchestra in mid-measure and announced accusingly, “I cannot hear ze second floot!” In the flood of music of a hundred-piece orchestra, Toscanini’s refined ear had perceived that a sound was lacking: the sound of a secondary instrument. Those missing notes of one line of music distorted the whole harmony. It was not that the second flute was playing the wrong notes. There was nothing incorrect in its line of melody. It was simply not bearing its part of the harmony, and it is the harmony that makes the symphony.

One of my favorite Scripture verses for Christmas is from the Wisdom of Solomon: “For while gentle silence enveloped all things, and night in its swift course was now half gone, your all-powerful word leaped from heaven, from the royal throne.” (Wis. 18, 14-15) To me, those words perfectly describe the intense anticipation that we feel as we wait for Christmas Midnight Mass to begin. Of course, I know that for the past nine months, Jesus has been curled comfortably in Mary’s womb peacefully sucking his thumb, but there is still that breathless waiting for the instant when heaven leaps down to earth and we realize that he is here now! Emmanuel, forever inseparably one with us!

November is the month when we remember those who have “run their course” here on earth, who have “finished the race” in this world and who have passed on to their eternal home. On Nov. 1, we honor those who have fulfilled their journey and now rejoice in the infinite love of God. On Nov. 2, we commemorate those who have still some preparation to accomplish in order to share fully eternal life in heaven.

Once, during a trip to Philadelphia, I joined a guided tour of the City Hall. The Philadelphia City Hall is the magnificent blue and white edifice standing at one end of the Benjamin Franklin Partway facing the Museum of Art. It houses the various governmental offices, but it is also a work of art with many sculptures and the iconic statue of Billy Penn on top of its 500 ft. tower.

Every facet of our being should refract the light of God’s graces, and every facet is necessary for us to shine with the full radiance of his love.

We need to learn to see with our hearts. The more we see with our heart the more we will see, and the more we will see truly.

Patron saints come in all sizes, shapes, and occupations. There are name patrons, saints whose name you share, there are date patrons, saints whose feast days mark some special moment in your life like your birthday, and there are action saints. I should probably call them something else, but I can’t think of a word that covers livelihood (like carpentry) and pastime (like soccer). Besides, “action saints” is an intriguing concept. It makes them sound like spiritual action heroes. Which I am sure they were! (When I wrote the previous paragraph, I didn’t know that there really is a patron saint of soccer! It is St. Luigi Scrosoppi. Look him up!)

Immigration is a delicate subject nowadays. Nonetheless I am wading into the discussion because I want to sponsor an immigrant. However, my immigrant is not a person who seeks to cross the border into this country. My immigrant is a word that I want to bring into mainstream use in the English language.

The property at our monastery includes large areas of pasture dotted with clumps of woodland. Various birds, such as owls and hawks, nest in the woodlands, and during the night we can hear the owls hooting, while during the day we can see a hawk flying over the pastures. It circles effortlessly round and round the pasture looking for food on the ground. Its wings never move except to tilt slightly as it shifts its circling course over the open spaces. It is held aloft on the warm air currents rising from ground and it rides these over and over the same patch of ground.

I recently read a beautiful description of the Church: “The Church is like the moon. She does not shine with her own light but reflects the light of Christ. Indeed, just as the moon without the sun is dark, opaque, and invisible, so too is the Church if she separates herself from Christ, true God and true man.”

This year, Lent begins on Valentine’s Day, for Ash Wednesday falls on Feb. 14. Liturgically, of course, it doesn’t make any difference, for the Church dropped the celebration of St. Valentine from the calendar and replaced it with the memorial of Saints Cyril and Methodius. Valentines’ Day is a purely secular celebration.

Making New Year’s resolutions seems to have become as much a part of the Christmas Season as candy canes and eggnog. I must confess, I don’t do New Year resolutions. A firm resolution of amendment in confession, yes, but not New Year’s resolutions. That’s asking too much.

I enjoy science - when it is presented in a manner I can understand. I like to read about what can be seen by the newest and most powerful telescopes, and how movement is measured by the warmer or cooler shades of light. I am engrossed by the speculation of how particles from the sun can reach the earth when they can’t exist long enough to make the journey. Do they go into a different dimension? According to some theories, there can be as many as 10 dimensions. (Don’t try to explain that part; I find handling ordinary space and time enough of a challenge!) And speaking of dimensions, I find it fascinating that scientists can see the edge of our universe as it expands – into what? Not into another dimension because this universe contains the other dimensions. Does it expand into eternity?

As a contemplative nun, I rarely leave our property, going out only for business like bank trips and doctor visits. For this reason, I can’t remember when I last got stuck in a traffic jam and sat waiting in place until we could drive on.

It has been nearly a year since my friend Elizabeth died. Elizabeth and I were friends all our lives. You could even say that we were friends before we were born because our mothers were friends before they married our fathers. Elizabeth’s mother was Russian Orthodox, and her father was Episcopalian. This made for an ecumenical richness in the bond that linked our two families.

Next year, our Community of the Carmel of Mary Immaculate and St. Mary Magdalen will celebrate the 75th anniversary of our Foundation. On Oct. 14, 1949, six nuns from the Morristown Carmel moved into a large old house in New Brunswick.

Next month, on Sept. 8, we will celebrate the Golden Jubilee of our Sister Rose Marie of the Sacred Heart. During the public Mass in our chapel, Sister Rose Marie will renew the vows she has so faithfully kept for the past 50 years. Such faithfulness is impossible without a deep love to sustain it. Fifty years encompasses two generations. If Sister Rose Marie had married, she would be a grandmother, and indeed Sister fits easily in the role of grandmother to the younger nuns in our community. (Our oldest Sister is 94 and she has been in our community for nearly 75 years, which qualifies her as our great-grandmother!)

I don’t have a twin sister. At least, as far as I know, I don’t. This means that there is no one who shares my DNA. I am quite unique. Actually, I believe that even identical twins have some slight genetic differences, so even with a twin, I would still be unique.